


Coming Home to Change

by Captain12479



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Harry returns to Hogwarts, Hope, Mostly Canon Compliant, Moving On, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:20:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain12479/pseuds/Captain12479
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts alone as Hermione goes to work for the ministry and Ron starts working with George. He finds himself building bridges with people he never expected to befriend, while burning others down. A new beginning, new friends, new life, and another year at Hogwarts. All while holding on to his last bit of sanity and trying to figure out why he feels differently than he did before the night of the Battle. And what is that about the veil in the Department of Mysteries?





	1. The Train

Harry got to platform 9 3/4 alone. Hermione had decided to accept a position in the ministry working with social services, though Harry knew how hard it must have been for her not to properly finish school. She had taken courses over the summer after the war and managed to complete them in time. Ron, on the other hand, had simply refused to return to Hogwarts. He could no longer bear to see the place where so many people he had loved had died. He had nightmares every time he tried to sleep, regularly featuring the final battle. Instead of school, Ron had gone to work with George in an attempt to keep the business and George himself above water.

Harry had been the only one to return from their trio. Looking around the platform, he could feel the difference in the air. People were still jumpy and afraid, even five months later. Harry paused, considering again if he should put on a glamour to hide his haggard appearance. He was not doing well, which was the understatement of the century. He never slept, relying instead on pepper up potions and coffee. He never ate, and had lost further weight since the war ended that he didn’t have to lose after living on the run for so long. His shoulders slumped, feet dragged, and perhaps the most telling sign of all- his hair lay flat against his head. But as he looked around at the other students there waiting with their families, he thought that maybe they didn’t need a bright shining hero anymore. Maybe they could stand to see him like this. Like them. Lost, broken and empty.

Feeling nauseous, which he found odd given his empty stomach, he stepped out of the shadows and into the crowd. Almost immediately people were pointing and whispering. Their eyes boring into him. He regretted not putting on the glamour now. As if a spell had broken, they all came forwards at once. Wanting to shake his hand, thank him, brush their fingers against his cloak. Harry drew the line at autographs. He hated this - it was why he had avoided everyone over the summer. He had spent a week at the burrow, trying his best to continue as if everything was fine. But Ginny had tried to pull him into her bedroom and he had reacted violently. Once he’d gotten his breathing under control, he excused himself as politely as he could and fled to grimmauld place where he had lived the remainder of the summer out surviving mostly on the whiskey he found in the library. He slept on the floor in Sirius’ room.

Ron and Hermione were holding on to the happiness they found in one another and Harry was happy for them, but he refused to let them come through when they floo'd him. He felt at home in the gloom surrounding him, and didn’t want their happy bubble to change it. He deserved the misery. If only he had acted faster, maybe Fred wouldn’t ... maybe Lupin would ... maybe. Harry tried not to think of it often but it festered at the back of his mind, waiting for the right moment to make itself known through panic attacks and PTSD episodes and god. The nightmares. He pushed his shoulders back, trying to only look straight ahead and maneuver through the crowd. A flash of white gold hair caught his eye, and he steered towards it, hoping if nothing else he would find relief from the pressing of people trying to get to him.

He was right. Narcissa Malfoy stood with her son and everyone was giving them a wide berth as if they were contagious. They too were getting looks but where the looks to Harry were kind and full of hope these were full of suspicion. Harry stepped into the space, and bowed deeply to Narcissa. He could feel all eyes on him, waiting to see what he would do next. He only hoped that this would show everyone that they should move forward from the old hate. But then he remembered that he was tired of caring about the good of society though, and stood back up. The two Malfoys looked shocked for a moment before their good breeding kicked in. “Potter” Draco said, bowing slightly in return. “I trust you’ve had a good summer break?” Harry nodded sharply, assuming that Malfoy probably didn't want the real answer anyway, and decided against asking how his had been. The tabloids had enjoyed reporting their misery. His voice was underused, but he had found that he rarely had anything to say anyway. Mrs. Malfoy gave Harry a nervous smile, which Harry tried his best to return but which probably came across as a bad grimace. Just then, the train whistle blew and there was a mad rush to the doors. Malfoy turned to him with a curious look and a “shall we?” Harry just nodded again.

They walked together to the very back of the train, and found an empty compartment. Malfoy immediately drew the blinds on the door and the window, and Harry put up protective charms. As an afterthought, he threw out a spell that would draw all 8th years to their compartment. Malfoy sat down, and after a moments hesitation, Harry sat beside him rather than across, guessing that Malfoy was probably just as worried about what was to come as he was. The only time Harry had left grimmauld place over the summer was to attend Malfoy’s trial. At first, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He, Ron and Hermione had decided not to share what had happened during their time on the run in full detail, only what was necessary, but it wasn’t long into the trial that Harry had stood up, his patience wearing thin and speaking out of turn to say, “please refrain from continuing to speak of things you know nothing about. Draco Lucious Malfoy saved my life along with Ron, Hermione, Luna and dean’s lives this summer with me as personal witness. He made it possible for us to escape Malfoy Manor, and he ensured Luna and dean stayed alive during their time there. He refused to name me, when there was no way for him to not recognize me. He gave me his wand to defeat Voldemort. The way I see it, This trial is a formality.” Harry shifted his gaze from the annoying lawyer to Kingsley who sat watching Harry with interest before stating, “I will do whatever it takes to see to it that Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges.” He could not stop the slight curl to his lip as he finished, “He made mistakes, certainly. But that is what HAPPENS when you make CHILDREN fight a war.” There was silence as Harry looked straight on at the judges before sitting down with his back stiff as a board. The trial had concluded quickly after that, and Draco was cleared of all charges. Harry had walked over to him in the hallway afterward and returned Malfoy’s wand. They hadn’t become friends, exactly, but there was a deep understanding as they locked eyes. Knowing that they had both been manipulated into roles they had never wanted.

The door to the compartment opened revealing lavender brown and the Patil twins. Lavender rushed to Harry, throwing her arms around him as the Patil twins raised their eyebrows in surprise. Harry took his new friend’s enthusiasm in stride, but he was still getting used to it. Over the summer, he had invited Lavender over which had surprised her, given their only previous history had been through the disaster of a relationship with Ron, but Harry had spent the afternoon regaling her with stories of Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. Harry thinks of his father often, and he wishes he could be as happy and carefree as the marauders were. He wishes he had had the chance.

Lavender’s bite had turned her into a werewolf, and he knew she must be frightened. They had stayed there all night talking, and she had come back several days a week to ask questions. She would have to spend once a month in the whomping willow, like Lupin had, but Harry had promised her he would make sure it wasn’t so bad. He had spent some of his time researching how to become an animagus, and was well on his way to becoming one. Right now, he had the mandrake leaf tucked away in his mouth. He hoped to be able to transform before she had to undergo the next full moon.

Draco too looked confused at her warm greeting, but Lavender filled the others in, and Harry was pleased he still hadn’t been forced to talk. He knew McGonagall would want him to give a speech at the sorting ceremony, and he was already dreading it. No sooner had the three girls gotten settled than the compartment door opened again to reveal the rest. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Blaise Zabini, Cho, Hannah abbott, Ernie McMillan, Susan Bones, Millicent Bullstrode, Michael corner, and Terry Boot. No one else had returned. They had either fled the country, or gone on to be with what was left of their families. Harry had heard that a few students had gone to different schools to avoid returning to Hogwarts, which Harry understood, but Hogwarts was the only home he had ever known and he couldn’t bear not going back.

Only sixteen 8th years remained. Harry shut his eyes tightly, trying to hold back the flashes of the bodies of the rest of the kids in his year as they squeezed into the compartment before Malfoy cast an expansion charm, allowing plenty of room for everyone. For a moment the compartment was silent as it dawned what they were doing. They were returning to the worst day of their lives, and Harry could see tears forming in the Patil twins eyes. Neville took Hannah’s hand, and was rewarded with a small smile. Harry could feel their eyes on him, wanting him to provide them with something, any kind of hope like he had done that day in May.

He cleared his throat, “Here we are, then.” He said weakly. A few of them smiled though, so he thought maybe he it was an alright way to start, “McGonagall contacted me a few weeks ago, she wanted me to fill everyone in.” He paused to move the mandrake leaf slightly, “As 8th years, we will be mostly separate from the other houses. We are going to have our own common room and dorm apart from the four houses, and our own table in the great hall.” Harry lost his voice momentarily, lost in the last time he had seen the great hall. Malfoy nudged him gently and brought him back to the present, “She made me head of our year, which I am still unclear on why, if anyone it should have been you, Nev.” Neville mumbled something and blushed slightly, “This year is going to probably be the hardest one yet. I know most of you lot well. For the rest of you, come to me with anything and we’ll make it right. No more of this divided shite, we have to hold together. We have to hold the line.” His eyes clouded over, and he repeated as if a broken record, “hold the line, harry, hold the line, hold the line, hold the line.”

Lavender began to cry quietly, and Michael Corner and Terry Boot shook harry’s shoulder. He continued as if nothing had happened, “We have to show the younger years how Hogwarts can be. How the world can be. There’s no one else to do it.”

Everyone in the compartment, even the Slytherins, nodded in agreement. No one was much surprised by Harry’s actions, they all had some sort of lingering oddness from all they had seen and done. They all knew they would have to walk through this year together, or not at all. Slowly, the grim mood stated to lift as they watched as Neville flirted shamelessly with Hannah, and Blaise began to fill the empty space with funny stories of his mother. It seemed the only two who couldn’t bring themselves to smile were Malfoy and Harry.


	2. The First Night Back Home

When they arrive in Hogsmead, Harry is relieved to hear Hagrid’s booming voice, along with a sharp pang of guilt over how long it had been since he had seen him. He was greeted by a slap on the back that nearly dropped him to his knees, and he wrapped Hagrid in a hug, glad at least to have this still in his life. “How are ye, Harry? Safe trip I presume? Glad to have ye back, come by soon” Hagrid boomed out. Before harry could reply, Hagrid was off again shouting his call for the first years, which Harry was pleased to see there were a good number of. A sharp voice came into focus ringing out, “Eighth Years, to me, please, Eighth Years this way!” He looked up to see the green robe of Professor-now headmistress McGonagall. Perhaps this year the world could make sense again, filled with McGonagall’s stern voice and Hagrid’s rock cakes, Harry thought to himself as he followed the rest of the 8th years to where she stood. She seemed to take a minute to collect herself before beginning, “It is such a privilege to have all of you back. I am so very pleased with how many of you have returned.” She surveyed them, but Harry could see a fondness in her eye, “I trust Mr. Potter has filled you in on the new arrangements?” There were a few nods, “Very good. The 8th year dormitory is located behind the portrait of the lady and unicorn on the 8th floor. Your things are already located in the common room. I trust you all to make good judgement on who to room with this year. Do not make me regret that decision.” Harry waited for the glare to be shot in his and Ron’s direction, but it never came, and Harry remembered too late that Ron was not with him.   
Something in his chest twinged sharply, and he tried very hard to ignore it. “The 8th year table is located at the back of the great hall, to the right as you enter. You may also sit with any of the other tables, but please remember that you are older and the younger students are looking to you to see how they should behave.” She mumbled something then, and harry could have sworn it sounded like, “heaven help us all”. She continued, “As 8th years, you will have the privilege of visiting Hogsmead any weekend you wish, provided you sign out with me, or with Harry, and that you never go in a group smaller than three. Does anyone have any questions?” No one did, and McGonagall dismissed them, adding, “Potter, please stay, we need to discuss your speech.” Seamus gave him a grimace and clapped him on the shoulder, while dean mouthed “sorry mate” before they walked on with the others.

Harry turned to McGonagall, who was all business saying, “I trust you have prepared your speech?” To which harry nodded again. “Potter, I am uncertain if I have been clear with you. Do you understand why I made you head of 8th year?” Harry shook his head no, “Because the young men and women in your year need you.” She must have caught the hardened look in his eye, because she continued before he had a chance to protest, “No, Harry, not in the way you are used to, where you have to do something different for the greater good. The students at Hogwarts need someone who will make them feel safe. Last year, they needed someone who would rally them together, a figure head who they could fight in the name of, who would remind them to have hope, and they found that through you as well as through others. This year, they are broken.” Harry stared on frozen in surprise as he watched tears drip down her cheeks, “My students have been murdered. They have been tortured. They are terrified, and they are returning to the place these atrocities occurred anyway. They need a person who will make them feel safe without that person ever doing anything other than being themselves. They need a person that they know will lay down their life to keep them safe without a second thought. Someone who will ensure they don’t have to worry if the door is warded, because it has already been taken care of. I made you head of 8th year because you are all of these things, without having to do anything different. Do you understand?” 

Harry nodded, and before he could second guess himself, he stepped forward and drew her into a quick hug. “It’s okay, Minnie. I’ll keep them safe. Promise.” As he had hoped, she let out a shout of laughter, before she smiled at him like he imagined a grandmother would, “You may look like James, but you are Sirius’ son too.” They walked together back to the castle, catching up quickly to the other 8th years, and Harry hoped he would be able to keep his promise. 

When they arrived at the great hall, every sound stopped, and every eye was on them. Harry stepped forward, back straight, and hoped he looked like he knew what he was doing. He could hear the sharp inhales of the people behind him and they were seeing the great hall for the first time since the battle. Remembering, he sat at the table, and Malfoy and Zabini sat down on either side of him. Dean and Seamus were across, and the others were scattered. With only eight students on each side of the table, Harry knew this year would be an odd one. Especially if he was going to be spending his meals with Zabini and Malfoy. 

Soon, the sorting began, and harry enjoyed watching the faces of the little ones being sorted, while he remembered his own sorting. Wondering what kind of a response he would get, he leaned over to Malfoy and said, “Did you know the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?” Malfoy promptly spat out his pumpkin juice, and Harry allowed himself a small twitch of his lip while Malfoy sputtered. Harry felt he should have had this conversation a long time ago if he had only known how entertaining it would be. Imagine, a Malfoy speechless. Harry sat back and enjoyed his results.   
Just then, McGonagall called him up for his speech, “Mr. Harry Potter has prepared a few words. Potter, if you would.” Malfoy, who was still trying to form a reply, watched the light go out of Harry’s eyes, and his jaw clench shut as Harry stood up and began making his way up to the front of the great hall. 

He only made it halfway before his steps stuttered to a stop, unable to continue to the podium. His eyes were glued to the spot where Lupin and Tonk’s lifeless bodies had been laid during the battle. His breath coming in small gasps, as the battle flashes in front of him. He could see it and hear it and taste the smoke in the air. He doesn’t know how long he stands there staring at the ground while the Hogwarts student body looks at him, but then there’s a warm hand in his as a high-pitched voice softly says, “It’s OK harry, I can see it to”. He turns to meet Luna’s eye as he realizes he stopped in between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, and she gently tugs his hand, effectively pulling him back to the present. He squeezes her hand in return, and they walk up to the podium together. Harry is relieved to see her again, and is taking small slow breaths to try to calm down, while looking at her and hoping she won’t vanish. But she stays with him, and so he begins to speak slowly, turning towards the other students.  
“The war is over. Some of you here don’t know what that means, but so many of us have lost too much. We are missing our loved ones.” He had to stop to swallow past the lump in his throat before he could continue, “Our friends who should be here with us today…” he pauses, “there is only one thing about the war that you should know.” He waits until everyone is looking at him before continuing, his voice stronger now, “There is no such thing as being better than someone else. If you believe that purebloods should be punished, or hated, you are no better than if you believe muggle borns should be punished or hated. If you think one house is better than another, and that hurting the people in that house is good, you are no better than the death eaters. If you believe these things at all, you are no better than Voldemort himself, and you will not be tolerated.” He was unsure of what he was about to say, as tired as he was of the responsibility, but he knew someone had to draw the analogy, someone had to speak up and say, “If you act out these beliefs, you, too, will meet my wand in the courtyard. The war is over. Let it be over. Act like it is over. Move on from it, learn from past mistakes. We cannot bring back what we have lost, but we can prevent it from happening again.” He blinked, and he looked back up to find many of the older faces wet with their own sorrows, “We cannot tolerate hate anymore. Our society has to get better, and it starts with us, the next generation. We are the ones who can and will make the difference. I call on each and every one of you to make that change. To change our world.” He looks around the room, “The war is over.”

He looked to Luna to see if his speech was okay, and she was beaming up at him. The rest of the feast passes quickly, and Harry even sees some faces he recognizes from the years below him, including Ginny at the Gryffindor table and Romilda Vane a few seats down, both of whom were trying to catch his gaze. There are others, spread across the room. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from Dumbledor’s Army. Some Slytherins he remembers who snuck back in to help fight. Harry feels the sorrow dragging him back down, and he reaches out a hand to steady himself. Malfoy and Zabini both look over at him, confused, but they catch on quickly and start up a loud conversation about quidditch. Dean and Seamus join in, and after a few minutes, Harry begins to really hear what they are saying. All too soon, the feast is over and they are dismissed to their common rooms. 

The short walk from the back entrance to the great hall had not made them face much yet, and Harry dreaded seeing the rest of the castle, but he gathered his courage, and was the first to stand from their table. “Right. Come on.” He led the way out of the great hall. They didn’t get far before he heard Seamus grunt, and turned to see him reaching for his wand, staring at a wall that had been blown in. Dean took his hand, whispering something to him, and they continued on. They made several stops where they remembered the fallen, seeing the battle as if it was happening, all of them clutching at their wands and trying to remember that things were different now. But it seemed too quiet. Even the portraits were silent as they watched them move along the corridors up to the eighth floor. When they reached the seventh floor landing, Harry felt Malfoy stiffen beside him and jerk back. Harry turned to see him staring with wide eyes at a singed black door that most of their year had never seen before. When Malfoy started whimpering, harry took hold of his arm, “It’s alright, Malfoy. I got you out, remember?” Malfoy’s head whipped back around so fast it make Harry’s neck hurt. He could see the panic in Malfoy’s eyes, and he pulled him up the stairs as the others followed. “I dream about it. You leave me.” He whispered as if it cost him something to say it aloud. “I didn’t leave you. I flew back for you. I carried you out. We’re okay.” Slowly, Malfoy’s eyes cleared and the group continued on. 

When they arrived at the door of their new common room, Harry realized they had never been given a password, but when he reached forward the lady in the painting spoke, “This door will only open for the 8th year students, and the head of houses.” Then the portrait hole swung open, revealing a large room with deep brown wooden floors and panelling. A grand chandelier was hung over the center of the room. There were two fireplaces, on on either side of the room, and the couches and other furnishings were varying shades of purple. All four house banners hung on the wall, along with various pictures from past years, where some of the students who were not there could be found waving. There was a dark grand staircase at the back that presumably let to the girls dorms on the left and boys on the right, and a small door to the bathrooms as well.

They all crowded into the warm space, and suddenly it felt much the same as the train ride had. Harry saw people beginning to look to him again, and so he nodded and pulled out his wand. He began to cast enchantments, “Protego Totalum, Salvio Hexia, Muffliato, Cave Inimicum” When Harry noticed the others relaxing as they realized he was warding the room, he continued to cast silently any charms he could think of that may be helpful. By the time he had finished, everyone was gathered in the middle of the room. Harry noticed their trunks pushed up against the wall, and he wondered how they would want to divide rooms. “I’ve never seen some of those spells, where did you learn them?” Dean asked Harry. “We used them to protect the camp when we were hunt… on the run last year.” Harry replied. “Hunting what?” Susan asked. Harry decided it was safest to stay quiet, but Neville chimed in, “Harry, you know what happened to us. Why is it that we can’t know what happened to you? The three of you refuse to talk about what it was you were doing.” Harry looked around the circle, and he realized everyone expected an answer. More than that, he realized that these people, at least, deserved one. “Alright. I’ll tell you. But I would prefer it to stay in this circle.” “Sure you don’t want us to leave then?” Zabini asked carefully, He looked guarded, but like he was ready to leave if harry told him to. He realized Millicent Bulstrode and Malfoy looked the same. “No, stay. I meant what I said about the war being over.” They nodded gratefully and Malfoy poked him in the leg, prodding him to continue. 

“I don’t know where to actually begin to tell this.” He paused to take a steadying breath, and once again adjust the mandrake leaf. “As some of you know, there was a battle in the Department of Mysteries a few years back. No one believed he was back until then.” More nodding, “I was there to retrieve a prophecy about me and Voldemort. ‘Neither could live while the other survived.’ It said. Dumbledore filled in the blanks for me. Do any of you know what a horcrux is?” Malfoy and Blaise both went white, but everyone else seemed confused at the strange word. “A horcrux is like a cage for a part of your soul. It can only be created by splitting your soul in two, which can only be done through murder. Once you have a horcrux, you can essentially never die. Tom Riddle’s diary, which was what possessed Ginny Weasley to open the Chamber of Secrets second year was a horcrux. Riddle made six, in total… with an accidental seventh.” 

Everyone was leaning towards him, listening closely to his quiet words. “Maybe we should sit down?” Harry suggested before casting a cushioning charm on the floor. Everyone sat, and he continued, “There was the snake, which Neville killed. Actually, the snake was the last one. The diary, which I destroyed with a basilisk fang. One of Riddle’s ancestor’s rings, which Dumbledore destroyed. Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, almost died getting that one, but Hermione destroyed it. Salazar Slytherin’s locket, Ron destroyed it with the sword of Godric Gryffindor. And Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, which was destroyed in fiendfyre.” Harry glanced at Malfoy, who looked like he was about to be sick. 

Malfoy met his glance, and asked, “And the seventh?” And Harry knew he would have to finish the tale, “Me. I was the seventh horcrux.” The reaction was expected, but still stung. Everyone lurched back, away from him. Everyone except for Neville, Zabini and Malfoy, the last of which looked at him with eyes so sad Harry had a sudden flash of sixth year, “How?” Malfoy whispered. “The night he killed my parents, my mother died trying to protect me. My dad too. He couldn’t cast a spell that could hit me because I still had their love protecting me. So the killing curse rebounded, and struck him instead. His soul split, and a part of it went into me.” Neville reached out and put his hand on his shoulder, “Oh, Harry.” Harry knew what he was feeling, but he didn’t want their pity. “I didn’t know until the night of the battle. Dumbledore knew. Snape knew. They raised me to be killed from the time I was eleven. After all, neither could live while the other survived.” Harry added bitterly. 

With another calming breath, he said, “So I had to die.” His throat clogged back up. He knew he would not be able to tell them this last detail. He had barely been able to tell Ron and Hermione what had happened down in that forest. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, and he suddenly found his hand being held by a pale one that was attached to Malfoy. He looked up in surprise, but the hand only gripped his own tighter and Malfoy refused to meet his eyes. 

Neville spoke first, “I’m sorry Harry. We didn’t know.” “We knew you were doing something important, of course, but no one would tell us what.” Ernie interjected. Harry nodded, looking hard at the ground. “You died?” Hannah asked. Harry looked up at her, memories of walking to the forest alone playing through his mind. He couldn’t say it aloud. Ron and Hermoine had figured it out from the bits he was able to say aloud during a panic attack. He had never actually said it, so he went with, “I walked to the forest alone.” 

They stayed there late into the night. After harry’s revelation, people seemed to get bogged down in their own memories and their own nightmares, and began to share their own experiences. They slowly started to speak up, going around the circle with everyone listening patiently as they shared their horrors. The candles burned low, and Harry tended to the fire, picking back up Malfoy’s hand when he returned to the circle. He felt like a child, seeking out comfort. 

One by one they fell asleep, and the ones left awake would place a blanket over them. Harry double checked his cushioning charm, but it was lasting. Finally, the only ones left awake were Harry and Lavender. “Do you think he’s okay?” She asked him, motioning at Malfoy, “He got really upset on the 7th floor.” Harry nodded, whispering back, “I think he’s okay. I’ll make sure you’ll all be okay.” He looked down at the sleeping face of Draco Malfoy, and knew he would have to do a lot to make everything okay for Malfoy, but something in him wanted to try. Lavender giggled, but it was nothing like her giggle used to be. Now it was almost subdued, but harry looked over to see what she thought was funny, “if you keep looking at him like that I bet he will be fine.” She teased. Harry blushed deeply, “Like what?!” He demanded. “Nothing, nothing, forget I said anything at all.” She said laughingly. There was a dull bang that came from somewhere in the castle, and Lavender and Harry were instantly on their feet, their wands in hand. It had been soft enough that it hadn’t woken anyone else, but Harry was still shaken. For Lavender’s sake, he tried to hide it by saying, “It’s nothing. Why don’t you try to sleep, Lav.” She looked to him, worry still clear in her eyes so he said the one thing he knew she’d accept, “I’ll keep first watch, yeah?” She smiled at him gratefully, and went to lay down next to Padma. 

Harry glanced around the room again, thinking that maybe it was best that their first night sleeping in the castle they all stayed together like the DA had the past year. He went to sit on one of the couches, and stared into the fire, losing himself in the flames. Several times during the night he would hear whimpering and following it to its source would wake whichever classmate was dreaming. He was unshaken by the jumping and wands in his face, but was surprised by how quickly they would settle when they saw it was him. McGonagall was right as usual, was all he could think. They needed him to be who he was for them.


	3. A New Beginning

He knew he didn’t fall asleep, because if he had he would have woken up screaming, but he was surprised all the same by how quickly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped up from the unexpected contact, and twirled around, wand in hand, only to find Neville sitting down next to where harry had been a moment earlier with a sigh. Neville began to speak as harry lowed his wand, “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” Harry shook his head, checking on the mandrake leaf as he sat back down, “No.” He answered simply. Neville turned to him, all kind eyes, “Harry, I know you want us to know that we are safe, but you have to take care of yourself too.” “I never sleep anymore, Nev. Thanks though. What classes do we have today?” Harry asked, mostly to redirect the conversation. A look from Neville made it clear he knew what he was doing, but he went along with it. “Transfiguration, then herbology, potions last.” Harry nodded, glancing out the window, “It’s almost time for breakfast.” His voice was tired from all the talking the night before, after the months of disuse and he hoped that perhaps he would have more of an occasion to want to talk now that he was back at Hogwarts. He stood up and began shaking people awake. More that one more wand was shoved against his neck, but he found he had better luck at waking them up than Neville who was tackled twice. 

The walk through the halls was just as difficult as it was the first time, and the 8th years travelled as a pack, leaning on one another for support. Dean leapt back and away as if he was burned from a painting of a forest, firing curses wildly up and down the halls, and it took Harry, Neville, Seamus and Blaise to hold him down for long enough to snap him out of it. Lavender began to weep uncontrollably at the site where Greyback had bitten her, and Harry had to pull her away before she could settle down back down. They were just steps away from the great hall when Harry found himself in a protective magical bubble when four young Hufflepuffs sprinted past them towards breakfast, and he wouldn’t come out. He only moved when Terry leaned down and whispered to him, “Come on Potter, we need you to hold the line.” Cho looked furious, and Neville threw Terry backwards at the words, but Harry stopped seeing the battle and stood up quickly, still looking far away and muttering under his breath. It was at that moment on their journey to breakfast that Ginny Weasley came around the corner. 

The last time Harry had seen her had been right before he left the burrow. The last time he’d heard from her had been a scathing letter regarding his defense of Malfoy. She’d also not held back from expressing her anger over his avoidance of her since she’d tried to kiss him. But in truth, he just couldn’t be touched like that. Not right then. Maybe still not now. As she walked around the corner, Harry noticed the other 8th years forming around him, as if to guard him. Neville, Dean and Seamus squared up beside him, and he was grateful. Ginny could be scary. She reached him, and Harry knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth, “Harry, can I speak with you please?” 

“No.” Harry’s head jerked up at the hardened tone coming from the usually jovial Blaise, just to see how Ginny’s eyes had turned to slits.

His shoulders slumped even further down. Seamus piped up, “we’re on our way to brekkie, Ginny, maybe later” Harry knew that they were all just trying to help him avoid a confrontation so soon after he’d just stopped panicking, but the truth was he owed her this conversation. Harry took a deep breath, “it’s fine” he said softly, but they all heard him just the same. Blaise turned to study him, and Harry wondered if the mask of calm he tried to plaster on was working. He doubted it, but Blaise nodded once and led the rest of them the last few meters to the hall. Cho was hesitant to go, and looked gently at Harry until he nodded at her. She gave him a small smile before turning to glare hard at Ginny before continuing down the hall. 

Ginny stared with a mixture of emotions displayed on her face at Harry, as if unsure whether she should be angry, hurt or confused. Harry said nothing, waiting for her to make the first move. “You’ve been avoiding me” she said, settling on anger, “I’ve been trying to reach out to you this entire time, and you’ve just forgotten about me! And now you’re walking to breakfast with Cho and Malfoy and letting Blaise speak for you? What are you playing at? Trying to fit in with the Slytherins now? And Ron misses you terribly! He won’t stop bringing you up and why the HELL did Lavender look at me like that, since when are you close with Ron’s obnoxious ex?”

Harry stood before her with his head high, hands in his pockets, too far into whatever this was to stir up the energy it would take to yell back at her. This only seemed to make her angrier, “I mean you could have told me that you were coming back this year. Or that you wanted to break up or that you preferred the company of death eaters and loud mouths to your own girlfriend or even that you were leaving the Burrow or that you were planning to speak at the Malfoy trial, I mean you could have done ANY of those things and now you won’t even talk to me, standing there like you’re better than me- who the hell do you think you are Harry?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Was all he could reply. “I want you to say something! Anything! Just… stop avoiding me.” “Fine. I’ll start at the beginning then. Yes, I am avoiding you. No, I did not forget you, I just, I can’t anymore, Ginny. Cho was trying to comfort me. Malfoy has turned out to be an… Ally of sorts. He’s not nearly as bad this year anyway. Blaise was just trying to have my back. I’m not trying to fit in with the Slytherins, I do fit in with them. And they fit in with me. All the eighth years fit in together, because we can’t help but know each other now. I miss Ron and Hermione, but I fire call them regularly. Lav has become one of my closest friends so stop insulting her. I didn’t know whether or not I would be coming back this year until yesterday morning when I walked to Kings Cross, I didn’t WANT to break up, I just had to get out. Malfoy isn’t a death eater, he never really was, and if he was he was never a very good one at any rate s what does it really matter. I didn’t plan to leave the Burrow, I just needed to be alone, and of course I was going to speak at the Malfoy trial. Anyone could have seen that coming. I don’t think I’m better than you, I just don’t have the energy to fight with you about all of this.” He ended almost helplessly.

Ginny glared daggers at him, “I was grieving and my boyfriend walked out on me. I was lost, Harry! I didn’t know what to do or where to turn and I needed you!”   
“I was grieving too, Gin. I lost everything. All of it. And it’s all gone forever, in ways you cannot possibly understand. I’m sorry that I have hurt you, and you have every right to be mad at me if that’s what you want to do, but I’m not the same person you knew. I haven’t been since the battle.” 

Harry thought back to that night again, lost once more in the chill of the night and the strange noises in the forest. He gasped as he heard it again, “The boy who lived, come to die” But at the same time, there was Ginny red faced and now hurt in front of him, saying something he couldn’t hear. The flash of green, the stillness, Narcissa Malfoy over him. Harry thought he was going to be sick. He considered running from Ginny, but realized that would probably only make things worse but he was seeing the courtyard now, facing off against Riddle for the last time, everyone backing up against the walls to get out of the line of fire. He knew he was trembling badly, but he tried desperately to focus back in on what Ginny was saying to him, “I know you had a rough go of it, I’m not saying you didn’t, but Harry you can’t just walk out on us! And you’re right, I’m sorry, calling them death eaters and loud mouths was rude, but I, WE, love you and want you to know that you have a place in our family and that we want you around and mum is heartbroken…”

He was gone again, watching Molly Weasley throw hexes at Bellatrix, thinking desperately of Sirius, and then silence. He rushed back into himself, and was surprised to find Ginny looking at him expectantly. Unsure of what she was waiting for him to say, he mumbled out another apology, “I didn’t walk out on you, I just had to take some space to breathe. To learn to live with what was left of me.” He hadn’t really thought about how true that was until now as he said it aloud to her. 

After they had “won” it had been nothing but funerals for weeks. Constant notes asking him to come and visit with the grieving family. Trying to make him into a poster boy for how to move on from the war, only he wasn’t moving on, and he was only barely there. When he’d first gotten to Grimmauld Place, he’d been a shell of his former self. He still was just a shell. Just one step in front of the other. There was no plan anymore. No grand goal to kill the bad guy and save the world. He’d done what he’d been raised to die to do, but he was still alive. Only now he had no purpose. He had gone inside the musty house and called Kreacher to him. He’d stumbled around blind drunk for days before coming out of it long enough to push open the door to Sirius’ room where he had wept on the floor until he had fallen asleep. When he woke up the next morning he began to sober up and spent the next week alone and refusing to leave the room. He’d gone through everything, every keepsake. Pictures of his godfather and parents and Lupin laughing and living and happy. He’d wondered what that was like. His entire life he had never been permitted happiness, he had thought. His childhood had been a nightmare. He’d turned eleven with a glimmer of hope in the form of a half giant with a pink umbrella, and it had been dashed against the rocky shore shortly thereafter as he had to fight for his and other’s lives time and time again. He’d lost anything he’d ever loved save Ron and Hermione. Every good thing had strings attached. Every hope was false. He was so tired.

“I owe your family every piece of me. Every good thing that I have left is because I met Ron on the train first year, and I don’t take that lightly. But you can’t expect me to be who I was anymore. I can’t do it.” He had no way to explain it to her, and no words to clear the air. “I hope you can forgive me, Ginny.” He did feel bad, he knew what she wanted. It was what everyone else still expected of him. Marry the girl who’d always loved him, have kids, settle down, be an auror, but these were all empty dreams that belonged to someone else now. He had slept on the floor every night, trying desperately to pretend that Sirius was on the bed just out of sight. He had refused to eat until Kreacher had screamed at him. He’d given up on living. He answered Ron and Hermione’s calls because he knew if he didn’t they would come and try to pull him out of the state he was in, and he just wasn’t ready. When he’d learned of Lavender’s turning after the first full moon, he’d asked her to come visit, and they had both been in bad shape. He never let her above the first floor, but whenever she was there he would eat, and try to drink some water. When the owl had come from McGonagall asking him to come back, he had never replied. But he had woken up on September first after nearly four months sleeping on a floor and had walked out of the house only to find himself at King’s Cross. He was just lucky that Kreacher had had the foresight to shrink his trunk and sneak it into his pocket before he had left. The elf had been his only companion. 

“Oh Harry, you absolute idiot. Of course I forgive you.” Harry could see that she meant it, and watched as the fight went out of her and her shoulders sagged, “I’m sad, because I want certain things that can’t happen, but I understand. Of course I understand. I’m not the same either.” She said quietly. “However, you are family and you need to owl mum. She’s dreadfully worried and I wouldn’t put it past her to show up here this weekend if she hasn’t heard from you by then.” She added, tone so stern that Harry wasn’t sure if she wasn’t really Molly polyjuiced. “I promise, Gin. I’ll call her.” “Good.” She paused before continuing, “It’s okay to get lost, Harry. I promise it’s okay. You just can’t stay there forever. I’m afraid we won’t let you.” She looked at him sadly. “The depressing thing is, I’ll get over you. I know what I want, but I also know that I’ll be fine without you.” Harry nodded, relieved rather than hurt by the statement. She continued, “I will always be in your life, and I will always care about you though. It’ll just take me a minute. Just don’t avoid me. And don’t think you’re all alone, because you aren’t.”

Harry felt marginally better when he sat down at the 8th year table in the great hall. He would have hated being at odds with Ginny for the rest of the year, and he wanted to make amends with the Weasley family after having left so abruptly. He just wasn’t sure where to begin.

“What did she say to you, Harry?” Asked Neville carefully. Harry half shrugged, “She was mad. Wanted an explanation that I couldn’t give her.” Malfoy handed him a cup of cool water, and grey eyes met green for one charged second and Harry wondered madly if Malfoy was going to taunt him and throw the water in his face before Malfoy looked away saying, “You don’t owe anyone anything. You shouldn’t have talked to her.” Harry, slightly confused by Malfoy’s continued politeness, just shook his head, “You’re wrong, though. I owe the Weasleys everything. They were the first people who ever knew me. The first friends I’d ever had, and the only family I’ve ever really known. And I walked out on them this summer when they needed me.” Neville nodded along like he’d heard this from Ginny, Ron or Hermione already, which he probably had. “No, Harry, you didn’t.” Lavender stated simply. “You didn’t walk out on them. You took some time to yourself because you were sick and self destructive and tired. They didn’t need you. They wanted you. There is a big difference. And besides, you didn’t abandon them completely. You speak to Mrs. Weasley every Sunday afternoon without fail and you correspond regularly with the rest of them, exempting Ginny for obvious reasons. She had no right to make you feel bad and I won’t hear it.”

Harry looked gratefully to his friend, but he couldn’t believe her. Not after everything that the Weasleys had done for him. He knew he should have stayed, it was just that he couldn’t. The last thing he expected was for Neville, who knew of his childhood and what Ron and his family had done for him, to clear his throat and interject, “She’s right. Ron loves you. Hermione loves you. They all do. We all do. You’ve given enough of yourself Harry. Anyone who can’t see that is blind. Visit the Weasleys with me this weekend, and you’ll see. No one’s mad at you but Ginny.” Harry nodded, “Thanks, Neville. I will. But actually, Gin and I are good now. We cleared it up.” “So you’re back together then?” Asked Blaise. “No, done for good I think. Definitely for the best.” Harry gave him a tentative smile that was eagerly returned. Harry knew the Slytherins had all had a difficult summer. They were treated poorly, and judged harshly. Now, back at school, Harry could only hope that the students would bear his warning in mind and learn how to accept everyone, regardless of house affiliation. As he glanced around the great hall, he saw that most of the students were shooting furtive glances to the 8th year table. Hopefully, they’d follow his lead for once.


End file.
